


Her Smile in His Dreams

by Simpatico73



Series: Wish You Were Here [2]
Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Love Letters, Oral Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Smut, Veronica Mars/Logan Echolls Smut-A-Thon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 07:08:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6042679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simpatico73/pseuds/Simpatico73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan's on his first deployment since Veronica came home and he has a few things to say in response to a smutty email he received.  Post Movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Smile in His Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a companion piece to Her Name in His Voice, so I recommend reading that one first. Thanks to those who requested this - Logan’s response to Veronica’s email.

 

* * *

 

To: veronicamars@gmail.com  
From: loganecholls@navy.us.mil  
Subject: I can now form coherent sentences

 

Veronica,

 _Jesus_ , Bobcat. When you write a guy the single best email anyone has EVER written, it needs to come with a warning. Something along the lines of, “Do not read this email if you are required to pilot a $68 million aircraft within the next 24 hours,” would be appreciated. Because, let me assure you, flying straight after reading your message was an impossibility. Thank god for voluminous flight suits. The blood didn’t return to my head for at least six hours post-read. I’m still a little woozy and the smug grin I’ve been wearing - that I can’t seem to lose - has caused all manner of harassment. My bunkmates gave me some abso-fucking-lutely necessary alone time after I agreed let each of them choose one thing for me to do as payment. I had to sing “Hit Me Baby One More Time” shirtless while doing a dance number. I’ve had to eat only eggs for three straight days. And I’m not even going to tell you about the last one. I’ll save that story for another day.

Just… thank you. Thank you, Veronica, for everything you said. I miss you more than you can imagine. I memorized every word of your email – I’ll probably still have it memorized when I’m old and ornery in a nursing home and I’ll quote it to scandalize the little old ladies.

I know we’ve been keeping things light, I thought that’s what you wanted. I’ve been terrified of saying anything that might scare you away. But, _fuck it_ , because there is so much I want to say; that I’ve been _dying_ to say. And we’ve lost so much time already.

We’ve always been exceptional at communicating physically. _Beyond_ exceptional. It’s the words that have always been a challenge. But I’m ready and I’m counting on you not to run. I love you, Veronica. I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen. You must know that, right? _Please_ , tell me you know that.

Now it’s my turn for some backstory. I’ve had dreams about you, approximately once a month, for the last decade. In my dreams, you are always genuinely happy to be with me. Content. We’ll be driving, or watching a movie, or sitting on a blanket at the beach, and in every single dream you reach out and hold my hand, give me your blindingly beautiful Veronica smile and say, “I’m so proud of you, Logan.” Every. Single. Dream. It’s not like I need a psych degree to understand them – obvious wish fulfillment dreams but they helped to get me through some tough times and made me feel like you were close to me in the good times, too.

I couldn’t control when you would come to me, I tried. I used to think about you every night before I fell asleep, hoping that I could conjure you up. It didn’t work. I never figured out the trick, it wouldn’t always be on the best or worst days, it was just random. I grew to appreciate the randomness because that meant every night there was a chance I would see you. Once, I went close to three months without one and I feared that maybe it’d been so long since I’d seen you that my subconscious just decided to close that door for me. I was in a fog for a while, almost like mourning. But, finally, you paid me a dream visit and it’s been pretty frequent ever since. I’ve had four of those dreams on this deployment. The only variation in the dreams now is the ending - you lean in and kiss me after you tell me that you’re proud of me. The day after my Veronica dreams are always my best days, the days I feel the most calm and centered.

I don’t think you can possibly realize what it means to me to know that I am coming home to you. To us.

Eight more weeks to go, Veronica. That’s it. I’m going to have some leave, two weeks I think, when I get home. Can we go away somewhere, anywhere? I want you all to myself. Let me take you somewhere tropical and private. The only things you’ll have to worry about will be whether you should sunbathe topless to avoid tan lines (obviously there’s only one right answer to this question), what color the umbrella should be in your drinks, and how many orgasms your extraordinarily hot boyfriend should give you that day. I’m thinking six per day MINIMUM, Bobcat, and that’s just before noon.

Speaking of orgasms…(This would be a good time to find some privacy.)

I’ve already told you about my dreams. But I haven’t covered my fantasies. I’ve had a sort of rotation of you playing in my head during _those_ moments for as long as I can remember. The rotation has changed over the years, and we’ve made some new memories recently that have been getting A LOT of my attention during this deployment. God, Veronica, the day when we moved from the shower to the counter to the wall to the bed was just unbelievable. I was begging and pleading and, dear god, I LOVE it when you take control. And I think we both enjoy when I’m in control sometimes, too. In fact, I _know_ you enjoy it ;)

One of the times I remember with almost perfect recall was the first time I got you off. _Fuck_ , that memory is just… one of the best nights of my life. And, yeah, now I’m sitting here hard as a rock just thinking about it. I knew this would happen so I’m wearing my flight suit even though I’m not flying today. Okay, back to that perfect memory - do you remember that night? You were getting off a shift at Java the Hut and had packed some extra clothes in your bag for our date. Some jackass (not me) had spilled a large coffee all over your uniform just before your shift ended. You were covered in the guy’s mocha.

We had reservations at Juliano’s so there wasn’t time for you to go back and shower. You told me not to look, but I think you secretly wanted me to, when you climbed into the back of the Xterra to change. Of course I looked. You stripped off your clothes to find that the mocha had soaked through your bra and panties and you hadn’t packed a change of sexy underthings. What was a hot blonde to do? You caught me admiring you in the rearview mirror and held my gaze as you reached back and unhooked your bra. And, champion tease that you are, you slowly, achingly slowly, pushed each strap down your arms. I swear to god it felt like an hour passed while I was just waiting for you to get those damn straps down. Then you held the bra (white satin) in place with one hand, grabbed the strap with one finger and tossed it in my lap. I just sat there, staring at you in the mirror, trying to remember how to breathe. You were - still are - the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. Creamy white skin and perfect breasts with the most beautiful little pink nipples. With a smirk, you arched your brow in invitation and I was on you in under two seconds.

I licked you from head to toe. I fucking devoured you, Veronica. I still remember the taste on my tongue, it’s seared into my sense memory - mocha and you. You made the most sensual sounds, starting off with these sweet little sighs, these little “mmm’s” as I kissed down your neck. Then you helped me out of my clothes, all of them, and it was the first time I’d felt your nearly-naked body next to mine. It was fucking heaven. I thought I’d die from sensory overload. You have the softest skin I’ve ever touched. You are soft _everywhere_. I touched you reverently, but I was nervous to go _there_ since you hadn’t told me it was okay. So I kissed all of the mocha off of your chest, and you shivered this whole body shiver when I closed my mouth over your nipple. Fuck, I need a minute. God, I’m whimpering on the inside…

Okay, back to you. So, as I kneaded and sucked and nipped at your breasts, you started moaning soft and low; the most erotic sound I’d ever heard. And you grabbed my hair, pulled me up, and kissed me. It was hard and frantic with teeth and I was SO FUCKING TURNED ON because it was the first time you were out of control with me. And I just wanted to make it good for you. So I moved my hand down to your panties, white lace – I’ll address your love of lacy underthings in a minute - and they were soaked, I assumed from the mocha but now I know it was at least fifty percent you. And I lightly stroked my fingers along your pussy, silently seeking your permission, and you nodded and whispered for me to lick you clean.

 _Fuck_. Those words. “Lick me clean, Logan.”

I will never forget, as long as I live, 17 year-old you saying those words. So I kissed my way down, tasting mocha the whole way, and began by licking on top of the lace – now a possible kink for you(?) which I fully support – until you were wild and _begging_ me to take them off. And then, dear god, the first time I really tasted your pussy. There just aren’t any words to describe it; so hot and wet and sweet. You, your essence, it does something to me. Something primal that I can’t explain.

Veronica, if you don’t have your vibrator, get it now. I want you to come for me. Turn it on and put it where my tongue was that night. Do you remember how I licked your pussy? I started nice and slow, big long licks with my flat tongue from your center all the way to your clit. Then I swirled my tongue around and gave some quick flicks before starting over. I had one hand on your breasts, pinching your nipples. My other hand was on your stomach with my thumb rubbing lazy circles around your clit. I kept up the slow pace until you were literally dripping wet, all over me and the seat. You kept telling me how good it felt, begging me not to stop. As if I would ever stop before you came. Then, I added my fingers and started moving them inside of you. I had one hand inside and one outside with my mouth on your clit. Do you remember how that felt? You moaned so loudly that I almost came right on the seat. Are you close yet, Veronica? I’m in a quiet corner and god, I think I’m going to actually come in my clothes. Get there for me, okay? Come with me. Think about how my fingers and tongue felt that first time I went down on you. We were in a dark parking lot in the back of the Xterra and anyone could have seen us if they’d looked in the windows. When I sucked on your clit and my fingers found your g-spot, your hips shot up and you came so hard your knees snapped shut and held my head in place. And I kept licking and you kept coming, Jesus, it felt like forever. You came all over my fingers and I licked you clean. Wave after wave with you making the goddamned sexiest sounds I’d ever heard. Pants and moans mixed with _Don’t stop Please don’t stop Oh my god oh my god Logan yes_.

After you recovered, you gave me a soft kiss and followed it up with the most amazing hand job I’ve ever had. When I came all over your stomach, you ran your finger through it and licked it.

 _J_ _esus_ , do you even know what seeing that did to me? _Veronica Mars licked my come off of her stomach_. I’d had sex, lots of sex, and THAT was the single most erotic moment of my life. Fuck, Veronica, I just came. I literally came in my flight suit after only one stroke on top of my clothes. The way you affect me is staggering.

Eight more weeks. I am going to make you come so many times you’ll forget your name and won’t be able to walk straight. We are not leaving your apartment for at least three days. Get ready, stock up on food, I have six months plus nine years to make up for and I fully intend to leave you totally satisfied.

And now a word about your love of lacy underthings - I sent you a present. Please, please be wearing that present when I arrive stateside. I have visions of you in that present. That, and my imaginings of you in a transparent white tank top and lacy black boyshorts are going to get me through the next few weeks until I’m home. Back home to you. I will always come back to you, Veronica.

I love you.

Logan

PS: Any additional NSFW emails you feel like sending my way would be welcome. I’ll send you one for every one you send me, deal? I still have about a thousand fantasies to cover. Quid pro quo, Mars.


End file.
